


Blonde Bullet

by easyliving



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 1950's, Angst, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Crime, Hurt, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Relationship, One Shot, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easyliving/pseuds/easyliving
Summary: Todd Haynes, the director of, “Carol” has said before that since the gun in the film was a lesbian one it therefore, “doesn’t shoot,” (haha).But what if Carol’s gun had actually been loaded? Here is a one shot detailing an alternate version to the events that took place in the Waterloo motel that morning. Written entirely from Carol’s perspective.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Blonde Bullet

The minute I pulled the trigger I regretted bringing the gun in the first place. I knew it was slightly reckless and dramatic that I felt it necessary to be armed on the road trip, but I suppose it gave me some sense of security in the moment. I could have never been prepared for the sound that erupted from the gun and the sight of that vile investigator turning crimson and collapsing onto the floor. There had been such a turn of events from the night before. I had woken up feeling so elated, so light and carefree. Somehow amidst all the grief of the divorce proceedings darling Therese had appeared in my life. Oh, poor Therese. How must she feel to know that the woman she made love to the previous night was a cold blooded murderer? 

All of this and more ran through my head as I tried to process the now crime scene in front of me. I dropped the gun from shock and pressed a hand to my mouth to find that a small amount of blood had splattered against my face. My whole body started to shake, it was shaking before with blistering anger but now all I could feel was terror flood throughout me. The young man was still on the floor of the motel room, a protruding hole in the centre of his chest that had an expanding red coloured ring around it, the blood seeping into the fabric of his shirt. 

The whole room almost looked like some abstract and graphic painting, whether it was shock or not I couldn’t quite fathom what I had done and what I was seeing. Had I actually pointed the gun and shot? Or was this some strange visceral nightmare? Maybe I was still in that tacky green room with Therese sleeping peacefully at my side. Unfortunately, I could not convince myself of that delusion anymore. There was a dead man lying in front of me, and I was the one that made that happen. 

“Carol…” Therese said quietly, breaking me from my thoughts.

I jumped at the sound of her voice and turned to face the petite woman. She was pale as a ghost and her eyes were wide, not in her usual doe like manner, she looked scared. Scared of me. 

“Therese, just stay there,” I said distractedly as I looked quickly around the room.

I spotted the gun on the ground and daintily scooped it out with my scarf. I frantically began to clean it, careful not to release the trigger again. 

“Carol,” Therese said again weakly. I ignored her and continued on with what I was doing. I knew that Therese would be the voice of reason in a situation as horrific and unexpected as this, but I didn’t want that right now. 

My irrationality and panic took over as I placed the gun in Tommy’s hand and curled his fingers around the handle. I didn’t know if it looked plausible enough that he shot himself, but it was my only fallback right now and I wasn’t in the headspace to think things through thoroughly. 

I cleaned things up best I could, and made sure that there was no trace of Therese or I being there. I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, but I remembered what brought us there. The recording equipment and the tapes that had been sent to Harge. I knew that the investigator was probably telling the truth when he said they had already been sent, but I didn’t want to risk leaving any of it behind. What was shared between Therese and I last night was something that was so personal and intimate and beautiful. I felt nauseous at the thought of anyone hearing it or making what we did into something ugly or to be ashamed of. 

I turned around to look at Therese who was still hovering in the doorway and looking younger than over as a result of her terror. 

“We have to get rid of this,” I said as I gestured towards all the various machines and cords. 

Therese paused for a moment, but nodded then walked forward and into the room. She seemed relieved to have some sort of task, her face set into a picture of determination as she awaited further instruction. 

We began to shove the piles of equipment into the leather bags and cases that the investigator brought with him. Therese ran them out to the car while I desperately tried to remove the largest unit that was attached to the wall. We eventually pried it out, leaving a huge hole in the drywall, but that was the least of our worries right now. We carried it out to the car and threw it in the trunk. Therese closed the motel room door and the two sped away in my Packard. I saw the receptionist step out of the front office and follow the trail of exhaust we left with her eyes. I tried my best to pay no attention and focus solely on the road. I could have sworn I heard the distant sound of sirens as we merged onto the highway. 

We drove for hours and hours in silence with nothing but the road in front of us. At one point Therese had started to cry silently as she smoked with the window pried slightly open. I had pulled to the side then and tried my best to comfort her, but I knew there was no use when I couldn’t comfort myself. This was bad and I made it even worse because of my inability to control my anger. 

I needed to call Abby. What would she even say about what I had done? She was my oldest friend and had been by my side through everything, but this would be me asking too much of her. Would she ever look at me the same way? What about Therese? Was she terrified to be sharing the same confined space?

I suddenly was reminded of how the gun sounded when it went off. It was a heavy and echoing sound that reverberated through the room. The bullet that emerged felt like it was too large to be confined within the weapon as it was lodged into the chest of one Tommy Tucker. The images and sound were loud in my mind and ears and I pulled to the side of the road quickly and abruptly. I somehow managed to put the car into park before aggressively covering my ears with my hands as some sort of attempt to block out the visceral images and sounds of the recent events. 

It was as if everything that had just happened hours ago had finally sinked in within me. In the moment I had tried so hard to turn my emotions off and deny the situation, but now I could not. I had killed a person. There was no way I could go back to my life in New York now. There was no way I was ever going to be able to see my daughter again. Rindy would have to grow up with an absent murderer for a mother. 

My whole body started to shake again and I couldn’t prevent the tears from falling. The floodgates had opened that I had tried so hard to keep closed. I was always in control, was always able to have the upperhand in situations and over other people but I felt like I was spinning out of control. Everything had completely fallen apart. 

I don’t know how long I sat there crying, but all of a sudden I felt a petite hand slide up my arm to rest on my shoulder. I looked up to see that darling Therese had moved over to gently comfort me. Her quiet presence was so incredibly reassuring in a way that I couldn’t fully explain. Why and how she was still here and wanted to be anywhere near me, I didn’t know. Maybe the young woman’s feelings for me were much deeper than I had expected. I knew that without her here, however, I wouldn’t be getting through this. 

“I’m so sorry darling,” I whispered, knowing the words weren’t able to fully encapsulate how I was feeling. I had fully dragged Therese into this mess against her will. 

Therese took my shaking hand and squeezed it firmly. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Her actions spoke louder than any words ever could. 

“What do you want to do?” she asked quietly after some time. 

I pinched the bridge of my nose and leaned back in my seat, “I don’t know,” I muttered, “What is there to do?”

Therese’s face was impassive, “Harge will find out.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “Do you need to be back in New York anytime soon?”

Therese paused, “I suppose not.”

“Then should we continue with our trip? Get as far as we can?” I suggested.

Therese smiled a small, but sad smile, “Alright.”

“Okay,” I said then turned the key in the ignition, “Let’s go.”

Therese placed her hand on mine again abruptly, “Wait,” she said warningly. 

I stopped and searched her face. Before I knew it her hands were framing my face and she was kissing me purposefully. For a moment I was able to forget about the gun and Tommy and allow myself to be taken back to the events of last night. I was reminded of why we came on the trip in the first place. With Therese here, things didn’t seem as bad. I wasn’t alone. 

Therese broke apart from the kiss and leaned her forehead against mine, “For good luck,” she said softly.

**Author's Note:**

> My first one shot! Just something to tide you all over before I post the last chapter of, "There's Always Abby" - hope you enjoyed!


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